


Fair Maid of France

by Mozartsgirl



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7215211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozartsgirl/pseuds/Mozartsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy tries hard to talk a plant into growing. Harley tries hard to distract her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Maid of France

Ivy sat on her couch on Saturday morning coaxing a pot full of Achillea ptarmica to grow. It was looking sad and droopy, and not at all ready to menace any innocent citizens. There wasn't a single blossom on it. She could feel the potential energy stored in it, but it seemed shy. Ivy decided it needed some encouragement.

“Come on, poor baby, it's all right. Come on up,” she said.

Without warning, Harley barged through the door. “Hiya, Red!” She slung her backpack on the floor by Ivy's feet. “Guess where I've been?”

“Judging by the appalling aroma of your clothing, I'd say in some cheap dive bar. Picking pockets, were we?” Ivy asked. While Harley wrestled out of her skintight jacket, Ivy returned her attention to the pot. 

“Got about eight hundred bucks and a couple watches,” said Harley, showing off the glittering bands on her arm. “And a pint or two to boot!”

“Did you ever consider that you could do so much more than just getting chump change out of a bunch of drunken losers?”

Harley sat down and leaned against Ivy's shoulder. “It's fun! Beats putting on all that greasy makeup, anyway. Whatcha doin'?”

“I'm trying to grow this Achillea ptarmica, dear. Having some trouble taking root, aren't we, sweetheart?” Ivy cooed and gently stirred the dirt at the edge of the pot. Harley turned around and started glaring at it. 

“Bust free of your terra cotta prison, little buddy!” She leaned further into Ivy's space, placing a hand on her thigh for balance. “Ivy's waiting and Harley commands you!”

Harley's cheek brushed against Ivy's breast as she continued to nag the plant. Ivy resisted the urge to shift as curly blond hair tickled her bare thigh. Harley's breath was warm against Ivy's fingers and Ivy put the plant down and took Harley's face in her hands.

“Terra cotta prison? You really need to spend some time outside the bar,” said Ivy. “Maybe we should plan something. A little jewel heist or something.”

“A little shiny to distract the pigeon, huh, Red?” Harley lunged forward and kissed the tip of Ivy's nose. Ivy slipped her arms around Harley's neck and leaned in for a real kiss. 

After a few sweet, quiet moments, Harley started nipping at Ivy's bottom lip. Ivy dug her nails into Harley's shoulders and pulled her up into her lap. Harley bent her head to Ivy's neck and started sucking.

“Not so hard, darling,” said Ivy, breathing heavily. “You might draw some poison out.”

“Ain't nothing on you can hurt me but those nails of yours,” said Harley. When she was satisfied with the greenish bruise on Ivy's pale skin, she sat up straight and cocked her head. “Seriously, do you sharpen those babies?”

“Of course, Harl,” said Ivy. “I keep my nails as sharp as my wit.”

Harley shook her head. “Whatever, sweets.”

She glanced down at Ivy's pot, where the plant had fully flowered. Ivy followed her gaze and smiled brightly. “Harley, I think you did it.”

“Your plant is a perv.”

“As if voyeurism wasn't high up on your list of favorite pastimes,” said Ivy. 

Harley flipped around and settled her head in Ivy's lap, reaching backward to stroke the white blossoms. Ivy fluttered her fingers through Harley's hair. They sat in silence, the quiet sounds of breathing their only companionship.

“So what's the deal with this one, Red?” asked Harley. “Did'ja find a bunch of poor innocent seedies just lookin' for a pot?”

“I thought I might just let this little baby infest the gardens of the rich and useless,” said Ivy. “A little annoyance, just to remind people I'm still around.”

Harley's eyes widened. “Can we get Bruce Wayne? I'd love to see the look on that stuffy butler's face. Dust his whole yard in nasty sneeze wort.”

Ivy quirked her eyebrow, set the pot down, and looked straight into Harley's eyes. “How did you know what those were called?”

“Did someone forget that I am—that I used to be a doctor?” asked Harley.

“Not for a moment.” Ivy took hold of Harley's hand and traced patterns into the skin on her palms.

Harley smiled. “Did you mention something about a jewel heist?”


End file.
